The Great Escape
by gabiiikayyy
Summary: *4/18/13 - THIS STORY WILL BE UPDATED SOON* After the sudden suicide of his mother, high school senior Carson Phillips is forced to move in with his father. His life seems to be constantly going downhill, from the death of his mother to the entire school hating his guts for one stupid thing he did, but an unexpected call from Northwestern may turn things around.
1. Chapter 1

[A/N: I decided to write it in first person POV from Carson's viewpoint because that's how I usually write. Feedback is much appreciated!]

I feel so fucking guilty. If I was there for her, took the time to listen to her vent about her problems instead of sitting back and watching her hold them in until she eventually broke, then maybe she would still be here. And on top of it all I never made up with her and she died thinking that I hated her.

But the truth is, I think I do hate her. She threw away my acceptance letter to Northwestern, knowing how desperate I was to get into that school, AKA my only ticket out of this damn town. She kept it away from me for her own selfish reason: so I wouldn't go off and start a new life while she stayed stuck in Clover alone and miserable. That's not the reason she gave me, but I know that's why she did it. Dad left her, and I was going to leave her too, and she couldn't bear the though of being alone, so she wanted to keep me here as long as she could at any cost.

And then she goes and overdoses on her medication. She took her life, knowing she screwed me over by keeping me prisoner in this damn town for another two whole years, which is how long I have to wait until I can reapply to that school and finally be free. I refused to talk to her or even look at her ever since it happened. She tried to apologize, but I ignored her meaningless apologies that wouldn't help alleviate what she did to me. I knew she was suffering from me hating her along with the news of my father getting remarried with a kid already on the way. But I didn't give a shit. She ruined my life; I couldn't care less if hers went down drain as well.

But she actually was suffering enough to end it all. I couldn't tell she was suicidal. She was always moping around heavily medicated, mumbling about how much she hated her life and why the hell was she stuck with me and what the fuck did she do wrong, which single move caused her to lose in this game we call life. But that was normal for her.

If she was so pissed about me, why didn't she just let me go to that school? She wouldn't have had to see me as much. Wouldn't that have made her happier? But again, she would have been alone, and the thought of being alone with no one to talk to in the morning or say goodnight to would have slowly killed her.

But I pretty much killed her instead. All those weeks of giving her the silent treatment, not looking at her and pretending that she didn't exist, it really did kill her.

Or maybe it was that one time I exploded at her. I stayed silent for too long, and I guess it was just eating away at me, and I finally snapped.

Mom was sitting on the couch with the TV on and a glass of wine in her hand as usual. I got home from a day in hell at school and made a beeline for my room.

"Carson?"

I stopped dead in my tracks but refused to turn around and face her.

"I'm so sorry." Her voice shook as she spoke. "I just—I just didn't want you to get hurt. I know you wanted to go there. I just didn't want to see you get crushed when things didn't work out the way you hoped—"

She gave me that same bullshit filled speech almost everyday and I usually ignored it or walked away from her. But this time I didn't. I spun around to face her, looking her in the eyes for the first time in weeks.

"No, you just wanted to keep me here because you have nothing! You don't give a shit about me. All you care about is yourself. Don't go fucking telling me that everything that I set out to accomplish will just fall apart in front of me, because it won't. I know what I want and I know how to get it! If you'd let me go to school then I could prove it to you, but I guess we won't know for another two years when I can reapply. Or maybe you'll hide that letter from me too. You just want me to stay here so you won't be alone because Dad's gone and I was going to leave too. You're really selfish and—I hate you." The words just slipped out and I wasn't sure if I believed them at first, but then I realized, I meant everything I said. I took a deep breath and muttered again, "I hate you," and then went into my room for the rest of the night.

The next day I came home from school and saw her lying on the couch and assumed she was sleeping. Later I came out of my room to get something to eat, and I noticed she was in the exact position, on her back with her mouth open slightly. I waited a few minutes to see if she made any noised or movement. I went over to her and touched her forehead and said, _"Mom."_ She wasn't breathing and her skin felt cold. I saw the empty pill bottle still in her hand and felt my heart stop.

I know I said I hated her, and I still kind of did, but she was my mother, and right then and there I lost it, and I kept shaking her and hitting her crying, _"Mom, please wake up, mom…" _But of course she didn't, and then it hit me.

I killed her.

The day after Mom died I was shipped off to live with the father that I've seen twice since he walked out when I was twelve, and his soon-to-be expecting fiancé . I'd rather live in a cardboard box back in an alley barely surviving on the scraps of food people throw away in the dumpsters next to me.

Getting picked up by my father was the absolute, most fucking awkward scenario I have ever experienced. I was standing outside my house with my packed bags clutched in my hands. I would have driven myself to his house, but my dad said that I shouldn't because was still shaken from my mother's death and wasn't in the best state of mind to be behind the wheel. I saw his car coming down the street, the same car he fled to the night he left Mom and me, and parked it in the driveway. I could barely look at him.

He got out of the car and walked towards me, hands in his pockets. I knew it was uncomfortable for him too, and I wanted to make him feel even worse. I still hated him for leaving Mom and me.

He stopped a few feet in front of me, hesitant to come closer. "Hey."

I stared him down and he knew that I wasn't going to speak to him. He stretched out his hand. "I'll carry one."

I handed him one of my bags and walked to his car. We threw my stuff in the back seat. I got in the passenger seat and waited for him to start up the car. But he didn't. Instead he twisted in his seat so that he was facing me.

"I'm so sorry about your mother. I heard you found her."

I stared out the window. It was really cloudy outside. The sun was hiding somewhere behind the clouds. I wished it showed itself.

"I'm so sorry."

I'm tired of hearing the word "sorry". First Mom wouldn't stop saying it, and now my father.

"Carson, please talk to me."

I looked at him, saw the guilt trying hard to conceal itself in his expression and knew that he was only saying all of this to make himself feel better. He didn't feel sorry for me, or for mom, or for what he put us both through. He was sorry that his past actions were starting to surface the guilt he was trying to push down, and Mom's death forced all that guilt to emerge. It was just a bunch of bullshit, and I know my reaction made him feel incredibly uncomfortable. I laughed. I laughed because I knew he was only saying sorry for himself and he didn't really give a shit about me and he thought I was actually dumb enough to fall for it.

He started up the car and drove us to his place without saying another word.

Dad did all the preparations for the funeral and even brought his wonderful impregnated fiancé to it. The entire week I kept quiet, barely saying anything to anyone, keeping my emotions bottled up tight inside of me. But after the funeral when the few people who attended began to disperse from the graveyard, and my father and his new family was out of sight, I sank down next to her tombstone and cried my eyes out, for both my mother and me. She was dead, and I pretty much felt dead. I hated feeling so vulnerable and broken, but I just couldn't keep it locked up any longer.

I let myself cry until I felt something on my shoulder, and when I looked up it was my father. I'll have to admit it was sort of comforting to have him there at that moment. I didn't feel completely alone and abandoned.

The week after my mother died I was excused from school, but this week I had to go back. It felt absolutely shit-tastic to have the entire school staring me down because I pretty much took away their one sacred freedom at school: the access to having off-campus privileges. Yeah, me and my big mouth got all that taken away not that long ago. It's all my fault, and everybody knows it, because it spread like wildfire across the school, and now I'm on everybody's hit list.

But I'm used to the hateful looks and talking behind my back. I was never liked by anybody here, but I've never been this popular before, so I guess that's a plus. Man, I'm popular with everybody now. I've been called so many new nicknames by people who have never wasted their breath to talk to me before. The muscular jocks that stalk the hallways looking for prey don't need to search anymore, because they all come over to me now. I've been slammed into lockers countless times everyday. Both my shoulders are covered in bruises from it.

The cheerleaders. I can feel their hate radiating even if they're miles away from me. They live for prom, and now that they can't have it at some extravagant place where they can show off, they are mad pissed that they have to settle for having their big night in the cafeteria. Whenever I pass their group in the hallway they give me the death stare, with Claire in the center of them, her eyes the widest off them all.

Even the people who I consider below me on the popularity chart despise me and take the time to let me know. At least they don't have to worry about being at the bottom of the chart anymore, because that spot is reserved for me.

The only person who tolerates me is Malerie. She's my only friend and I'm so grateful to have her. She's the only one who comes to Writers' Club after school, which I am the president of. Writers' Club is dead, but that doesn't mean I'm giving up on it.

Today was the first time I saw Malerie after my mother died. She was careful about what she said to me, afraid that I was a ticking time bomb that would explode if she said the wrong thing. I told her not to worry and that I'm doing okay and nothing she could possibly have to say would upset me. So she jumped on the topic of my mother.

"What did you do when you found her?"

Okay, I was lying when I said that nothing she could say would upset me, but I didn't let her see that I was hurting.

"I called 911 and an ambulance came."

Her eyes widened. "But what did _you do?"_

I gave her a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, did you go with her? Or did you not go with her?"

That was the truly the longest, loneliest night I had ever experienced. I knew she was dead, so there was no point in going to the hospital. I stayed home underneath the safety of the blankets on my bed. Even though I really didn't want to, I called my father and told him what happened, and that's when we settled on him coming to pick me up the next day.

But I didn't tell Malerie any of that. "I stayed home."

She nodded her head. "I see."

And then she dropped the subject completely. I was so thankful she did.

Malerie's my best friend, and I'll be seeing her a lot next year at Clover Community College. Now that I'm going there, I really don't see the need to keep doing homework or even keep going to school. But I tell myself that this will all eventually pay off. I'll get back into Northwestern and climb my way up until I become a professional journalist. I swear it will happen and I'll prove my mother was wrong. I'll be the biggest and most successful journalist ever. I'll be worshipped in my field. I swear it.

Shit, now April, my father's fiancé, is calling me for dinner. I'm not hungry, but I have to drag my ass out of bed to go eat. I just want to sleep. For some reason I'm extremely exhausted. All of my homework is done, so I can just sleep for the rest of the evening until I have to haul my ass out of bed for school.

_"Car-son."_ Now she's knocking on my door, like I didn't hear her calling me fifty times before.

"Yes?"

"It's time for dinner."

I sigh. "I'm not hungry."

I know she's not happy about me living here. I'm not sure of the impression I made on her the first time I met her when my father invited me over his house for dinner, but that dinner ended with me storming out of the house, slamming the door behind me. Ever since I moved in she has been cold towards me. With the new baby on the way and me now living with her and my father, it must be stressing her out. She was probably hoping that she'd have a whole new family without bit and pieces of a broken one left behind.

"Fine," she says through my door. "I'll put your food away. You can have it tomorrow night."

That's a plus for her. She won't have to cook for me tomorrow night. More stress off her.

No one bothers me for the rest of the night. I know I said I was tired, but I'm lying in bed wide-awake. The thought of my mother is keeping me up. What was she thinking when she swallowed those pills? Was she thinking of me? Of my father? Of what her life could have been if I didn't exist to hold her back?

I wasn't holding her back. She could have done something with her life. She could have gotten a job, maybe even dated. I could have take care of myself. I would have been happy she was finally getting out other than to do the grocery shopping or buy her shit-tons of medication. I wasn't holding her back.

But she held me back. Because she assumed I was holding her back from her dreams, she thought she could hold me back from mine as well. She succeeded, but I'm only going to consider it a minor bump in the road. I will become a successful journalist and I'll finally be content with my life. This will all pay off in the long run.

I hold onto that thought throughout the night, my one last shred of hope, and my ticket to finally escaping this town that I've been tied to for seventeen years. Someday I'll get out of here, _someday._


	2. Chapter 2

Currently I'm sitting through yet another boring student council meeting. Claire is blabbing on about what the theme of prom should be and how the cafeteria should be decorated. Whenever she mentions that the prom is being held in the cafeteria the entire council's eyes glare at me for a good few seconds. I ignore it and stare down at my notebook.

Whenever I have to sit through these dumb meetings I usually think up torture methods that I'd rather be experiencing. This meeting is extra boring, so I'm doodling the most horrific method that I've ever come up with. I'm chained to a table and there are millions of blades on the surface of it, so whenever I move it cuts into me. Above me there's a block of steel with millions of blades facing me, slowly descending down. It will keep descending at a slow rate and eventually start to pierce through me. It's a painful death, and I would rather be encountering that than sitting through this tedious meeting,

The rest of the council sits as far away as they can get from me at the far end of the table. I don't even bother piping up. I really could care less about prom, and all of this guilt from my mother's suicide is really weighing down on me. I wish I could jump into the shitty doodle in my notebook and suffer through the agony of a million sharp blades piercing through me.

"So should our theme be safari?" Claire asks. Her voice is so grating that it literally hurts my ears.

"And everybody can wear animal print!" Remy squeals. Oh god. I roll my eyes and close my notebook.

"That's perfect!" Scott exclaims way too excited about the entire thing. His excitement amuses me and I smile.

"But it has to be faux fur," Claire says. "We can't have real fur."

I'm completely done with this meeting. I take off my glasses and lie my head down on the table, covering it with my arms to muffle their obnoxious voices.

They keep going on about how amazing they're going to make the cafeteria look. They're going to get the art kids to paint cardboard cutouts of jungle animals and create tall trees made out of paper towel rolls to border the cafeteria. It sounds like a stupid idea for a five-year-old kid's birthday party, but I keep my mouth shut.

"Someone's really quiet back there."

I don't bother lifting my head. Of course they're going to drag me into the meeting. Ever since I got their off-campus privileges taken away they've been tormenting me whenever they had the chance.

"You haven't been here for a week to contribute, and now you're just not going to say anything?"

I lift my head to look at Claire. Her abnormally wide eyes are staring me down, waiting for me to say something. I lie my head back down to show her that I don't plan on saying a thing during this stupid meeting.

"You're such a dick!" she spits. "Because of you we have to resort to having prom in the cafeteria. We had amazing ideas that we can't do now because we're stuck there for prom!" I hear her take a deep breath to calm herself from lunging across the table and tearing me apart. "I think the safari idea is wonderful." Her tone hardens. "Does anybody have a problem with it?"

I can feel all their eyes burning on me but I ignore it. I'm thinking about staying at school until the janitor kicks me out. I need to do a lot of work on the Chronicle anyway since my entire Journalism class is hopeless. No matter how much I pester them to write their parts for the newspaper they never do it, so I'm the one writing the entire paper, even though no one reads it anyway. It keeps me occupied and I feel as though I'm doing something productive. And I'm dreading going back to my father's house, so I want to stay away for as long as I can.

"I like him better this way," I hear Nick say. "I don't want to punch his face in."

If he ever tried to punch my face in I would have beaten his ass to the ground. I kind of want to right now just because he said that. My fist balls and then unclenches. Only a few more months left of these idiots and then I'll be semi-free.

"Me too. Hopefully he stays like this for the rest of the year," Remy says. "No one cares about what he has to say anyway."

I'm trying so hard to keep myself from not telling her off. God, I want to scream at all of them, but my guilt is weighing me down. I wish I could go home to my old house to my mother watching TV on the sofa surrounded by pills and alcohol. I'd give anything for that now.

Someone throws a crumpled ball of paper at my head and I look up to see Justin smirking at me from across the table.

"Well, he's easier to ignore now," Claire points out. "Now let's get back to prom—"

"Look, he's awake." I would appreciate if Justin just backed off. Now I can see that they're all looking at me.

Claire sighs. She feels obligated to include me since I'm a part of this dumb council. "Do you have any input on the safari prom idea?"

"I honestly couldn't give a shit about it."

She doesn't seem surprised by my response. "Aren't you going to tell me how lame the idea is?"

It's a terribly lame idea, but I'm not in the mood to argue with all of them. So I just flat-out say, "No."

This catches her by surprise. "No?"

"No."

She stares at me like I've grown a second head. "But you must have something to say about it."

"Nope."

She straightens in her seat and her mouth curves into a relieved smile. "Well, then we are going to go with the safari idea."

I don't even plan on attending prom because 1) It's stupid and 2) There is no way in hell that any girl from this school would want to go with me. I could care less if the theme was mutant ponies wearing tutus somewhere off in a distant galaxy. Actually I would probably attend that prom just for the amusement of it.

"We'll just have to make the best of having it in the cafeteria because _he."_ Claire gestures at me with her head. "Got us stuck there. I'm sure with the art class helping with decorating and the mandatory animal print attire this prom be amazing."

It'll be amazingly horrendous. All of the idiots from this school cramped in the cafeteria going berserk and acting like the true animals they are. It's bound to get out of hand.

"So I guess that concludes this meeting."

Thank the lord. I scramble to pack up my stuff so I can get the hell out of here as fast as I can.

"We'll talk more about the decorations during the next meeting," Claire says just as I'm about to make a break from the door. "I'll talk to the art kids about helping us with the decorations—"

I'm out the door before I have to hear anything else. The Journalism classroom isn't too far. I just have to get past this hallway and walk through the courtyard outside.

_"Carson!"_

I'm just about at the end of the hallway when I hear Claire shout my name. I halt and roll my eyes. What the hell does she want? Her footsteps catch up to me and she stops at my side.

"Why are you acting so weird?"

I decide to play dumb. "What do you mean?"

"You barely said anything during the meeting. Usually you never shut up and make fun of everything we say."

I shrug and start to walk away, but she lunges for my arm and pulls me back. "Why are you acting so weird?" she repeats.

"Why do you care?" I snap back, pulling out of her grip.

"I don't care. I've just never seen you like this. I do prefer it to how you usually act, though." She takes a step back. "It's just weird you're being so quiet."

Why the hell is she bothering me about it? And then it hits me; she wants to get back at me for what I did to her and the rest of the school. She wants to figure out what's bothering me and is probably hoping it's something huge and embarrassing. Then she'll go and tell the entire school to make me feel even shittier. I know that's what her devious little mind is planning.

"I know what you're trying to do. You want me to tell you what's bothering me, and then you'll spread it all over the school. I didn't spill what I had on you."

"As much as I would love to do that, I wouldn't. I'm a good person, unlike you. I was going to try and be nice and let you talk to me, but you're still acting like the jackass you always are. And you know what? You don't deserve my kindness after what you did to the entire school."

"I don't want your stupid kindness," I snort.

I know she wants to hit me. Her face goes red and she bites down on her lip and clenches her fists at her sides to keep herself from striking me. "This is exactly why nobody likes you. You push everybody away because you think you're so much better. I hope whatever it is you're upset about is horrible. Whatever it is I'm sure you deserve it."

That actually really hurts. If only she knew why I was so upset. I want to tell her just to make her feel like shit, and I'm about to, until Remy stops at Claire's side.

"What's all the yelling about?" She looks at me and scrunches her face like I'm the worst kind of vegetable you could find on your dinner plate.

"Carson's just an asshole," Claire says, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

Remy snorts. "Tell me something I don't know."

There are times where I wished I had more friends, and this is one of those times. At least someone I can trust and who will understand what I'm going through. Malerie isn't the brightest, but she's the closest thing to a friend I have. My mother was hard to talk to because she was always heavily medicated and pissed at the world, but she's the exact reason I need to talk to somebody. Dad is out of the question and so is his fiancé. Claire and Remy and everybody else at school hate my guts. I feel so utterly alone.

There's no point in fighting them. I turn away and head for the courtyard.

"That's right, get lost!" I hear Remy yell from behind me. "Go drive off a cliff!"

I stop just in front of the double doors that lead out to the courtyard. I can't take their hate anymore. Before it didn't bother me as much, but now it's killing me. Ever since my mother died things have been bothering me even more. I wheel around to face them and try to keep my voice as steady as possible.

"I don't give a shit about what either of you think of me. You want to know why I didn't talk during the dumb meeting? It's because my mother committed suicide. I know I can be a terrible person, but do you really think I deserve that?" I don't bother waiting for a response. "So go ahead and tell the entire school. Why not make up random shit about me too? Ruin my life even more. _I don't give a shit."_ I look from Claire to Remy. They both stare at me like I'm wielding a knife, about to murder them. I glare at Remy. "And that's a great idea, Remy. I should go drive off a cliff. Let me know where the nearest cliff is and I'll do that."

They continue to stare at me with awestruck eyes. I pound the double doors open and head for the parking lot. Now I'm not in the mood to stay after school. I know I have a lot of work to do on the Chronicle, but I'm so pissed off and stressed that I desperately need to get out and clear my mind.

I head for my car and start driving. I'm not sure where I'm heading, but I know I need to get away, far away, from all of this. What Remy said to me comes back to my mind, not that I'd really drive myself off a cliff, but the thought of driving to a cliff, or someplace remote without anyone around, sounds really good right now.

I've been to the ocean once in my life. It was the day my mother told me she threw away my acceptance letter to Northwestern. Right then and there was when I realized that she pretty much threw my entire life away (okay that might seem over dramatic, but that's how it felt). So I ran away. I left the outskirts of this stupid little town and kept driving, determined to get away so I could breathe and think everything over. I went to the ocean and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life. The fresh, crisp air helped to clear my thoughts and the sound of the waves crashing against the pure white shore made me feel better, but it didn't help ease the anger that I felt towards my mother.

I drive until I pass the sign marking the end of Clover and the beginning of the rest of the world. I drive until I hit the coast and I park my car on the beach.

Last time I was here I sat on the hood of my car and watched the sun set below the ocean, but this time I decide to venture down to the beach. I take off my shoes and my feet sink into the sand. I've never felt sand in-between my toes before. It feels strange, but I like it.

I walk down the slope of the shore and to the water. The cold water laps against my feet and the salty wind blows through my hair.

There are only a few people out walking along the shoreline. The waves are loud and the salty wind stings my eyes. The water is so cold that I can't feel my feet anymore, but I don't move. I watch the sun sink through the endless ocean

When the sun is gone and I'm freezing my ass of I drive back to my father's house.

* * *

"Where were you?" My father corners me before I can flee down the hall to my room. I don't even bother coming up with some smartass excuse.

"I went for a drive. I needed to think."

He nods like he understands. He doesn't fucking understand. "Call me next time you're going to be home after dark. I was worried."

"I'm sure you were." I head for my room once again, but he puts his hand on my chest to stop me.

"I don't need your sarcasm. If you want to live here then I suggest you knock it off."

I don't want to live here, but I don't have anywhere else to go. I know he doesn't want me here and wouldn't think twice about abandoning me again. I'd rather live on the streets than here anyway.

"You'd actually kick me out?"

He sighs. "No, but I don't want to have to put up with your sarcasm until you go off to college."

"I'm going to community college, remember? I'll still be living here."

"Right, I forgot." He sighs again. "Just try to cut back on it, all right?"

"Fine," I mumble and he finally allows me to go to my room. I still need to do my homework for tomorrow and I'm starving. I dump all of my books out on my bed and attempt to start my Algebra 2 homework. After struggling for almost a half hour on the first problem, I give up and head into the kitchen to get something to eat.

I raid the fridge and find the food that I was supposed to eat last night, but I push it aside and check the freezer for something microwavable. I find some mac and cheese and stick it in the microwave. When the timer goes off I bring it back to my room and eat as I struggle through the rest of my Algebra homework.

My homework is done a little after two in the morning and my bladder feels like it's going to explode. I get off my bed and feel my way down the pitch-black hallway to the bathroom. I pee and head back to my room so that I can pass out on my bed because I'm on the verge of losing consciousness. Just as I'm about to turn into my room I slam into my father.

"Jesus, Carson," he says, putting his hands up to keep me from toppling over again. "What are you doing up so late?"

"Peeing. Why are you up?"

"April couldn't sleep, so I made her some warm milk. I was just putting the glass back in the kitchen."

I could care less about his fiancé's insomnia. "Oh."

"How are you feeling, Carson?"

"Tired."

"I mean are you able to cope?"

"I guess." He's really going to get into this in the middle of the hallway at two in the morning? I know he really doesn't give a shit about how I feel and is just doing this for show. I've noticed that he only does this around April, but she's not here now so I don't know why he's playing pretend. "I'm gonna go to bed."

"Okay. Goodnight."

"Yeah," I mumble and close my door in his face. I stand with my back pressed against the door for a few minutes, kind of wanting to open it and chase my father down. I need to talk to someone, _anyone._ But I hold myself back and get into bed. My head hits my pillow and I expect to fall asleep immediately, but I don't.

I'm tossing and turning, flipping my pillow and pushing my blanket to the foot of my bed and pilling it back up to my chin. I can't fucking fall asleep.

Usually whenever I can't fall asleep I get out my notebook and write down whatever is on my mind. I groan and turn on my light, grab my notebook from off my desk and sit back down on my bed. My pen flies over the paper and I write down my stream of thoughts. My anger shoots through my body and out the tip of my pen and permanently stains the pages of my notebook. I go on and on about how much I hate my father and how pissed I am at my mother for destroying my life and how much I want to smack and scream at every single asshole that goes to my school.

I keep writing until I eventually pass out flat on my face with my pen still in my hand.


	3. Chapter 3

[A/N: Sorry about the lack of updates. School started :\ ]

I'm not even remotely surprised that my journalism class is as unenthusiastic as ever. I'm trying, almost _begging_ them to write something for the school newspaper. I can't remember the last time any of them have submitted to it. The only one who even tries is Malerie.

"I couldn't think of anything to write, but I drew a picture of my neighbor's dog." She holds up a poorly drawn dog with a squiggly circular body and four legs shooting out from various angles. It almost makes me smile.

"I need you to write something, Malerie," I explain to her. My eyes scan the noncontributing members of the class and they stop on Vicki, who is giving me a death stare. "Nothing?" I ask her.

She snorts and turns her music up to the max so that it blasts all the way to the front of the room. I figure she's a lost cause and I turn to Dwayne, who is passed out face flat on the table.

_"Dwayne."_

He jerks his head up and looks at me, eyes wide like I just scared him shitless. I look at him expectantly and he stares back at me stupidly.

"What?" he slurs.

"Do you have anything written? Anything at all?"

He laughs and says, "That's a good one." His head hits the table and he's out again.

I look over at Emilio, and even though there's no point in asking him, I do it anyway. "How about you?"

"Mi aerodeslizador está lleno de anguilas." (Translation: My hovercraft is full of eels.)

He's still keeping that charade up. I really want to expose him because I know he speaks perfect English, but I refrain from it. But then again, what if I called them all out on the dirt that I have on them? I used it to force them to write for my literary magazine. I could use it against them for the newspaper too. There's no other way to get them to write otherwise, so right now it's my only hope.

"You know what?" I begin, keeping my voice firm so they know that I'm not messing around. "I'm tired of this shit. I always end up writing the entire newspaper, and I'm sick of it. Remember the dirt I got on each of you so that you would write for my magazine? If you don't write something by tomorrow it's going viral all over the school."

Dwayne automatically perks his head up. Vicki's eyes are about to shoot lasers at me. Emilio mumbles, "Mi perro se comió mi pie." (Translation: My dog ate my foot.) I see that I finally have their attention.

"If you don't want your reputations ruined I suggest you write. I want something from each of you for the newspaper tomorrow. Okay?"

Vicki shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "No one cares about the stupid newspaper. We're only taking this class because we have to."

I fold my arms across my chest. "Well since you're here, why not try?"

"Because I don't care."

I don't bother arguing any further with her and cut the conversation there. I address the rest of the class. "So I need something from each of you tomorrow—"

"It was better when you weren't here for a week. This class was a fucking study hall and it was amazing. We were hoping you died or something."

They were really hoping I was dead? I mask the hurt and keep my voice firm. "Well I'm not dead, am I?" I snap at her. "You better write something for tomorrow, or else everybody will know that you…"

Her eyes widen in horror because she thinks I'm actually going to say it.

"Just write for me tomorrow and I swear I'll keep your secret safe."

The bell rings and they all scramble out of the classroom. Vicki makes sure to give me the finger before storming out of the room. Malerie lingers for a few minutes, carefully putting her stuff into her backpack.

"Are you sure you don't want to put my dog in the paper?" She holds up the drawing of her neighbor's dog. This time I smile.

"I'll put it in if you write something about it."

She sighs and stuffs the drawing into her bag. "All right. I'll try."

I give her an encouraging smile. She smiles back and nods before turning for the door.

As I pack up my stuff I mentally cross my fingers in hope that each of them will write something tomorrow. I swear that if this time they don't write I will expose them before the entire school. I'm fed up with carrying the weight of this newspaper, even though no one reads it. I'm really writing it for myself, but it pisses me off that these kids think that they can sleep through this class and earn the credits that go with it.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and shut off the classroom lights.

They can think again.

* * *

The school hallway is always a madhouse. You get five minutes to go from one class to another in a hallway crowded with obnoxious teenagers and it's like World War III has broken out. You can't walk an inch without someone slamming into you or yelling something obscene in your face. When I see my classroom door I usually bolt to it as if bombs are about to rain down from the ceiling panels.

I can barely maneuver myself through the hallway and I use my elbows to ram people out of the way. They give me pissed looks and curse me off and I spit back telling them what they should go do to themselves. Only a few more months of this torture left.

_"Dick."_

Somebody pushes me aside and my shoulder slams hard into a locker. I close my eyes and grit my teeth because fuck, it hurts so much. I hear laughter coming from behind me and I whirl around, but there's so many people crowding the hallway that I can't tell who is it is.

I should be used to this. I'm rammed into a locker at least once between every class each day by random assholes that I don't even know but nonetheless hate my guts.

_"Screw you!" _I yell above the roar of the hallway. I rub my aching shoulder and continue to my next class.

_Slam!_

This time I don't say anything back. I close my eyes and lean against the locker on my throbbing shoulder. People knock into me and tell me off for blocking their way, but I stay silent. The bell rings and I open my eyes and see that I'm the only person left in the hallway.

I know I'm late and I'm going to hear it from my teacher. I trudge down the hallway to my classroom, but stop outside the door. I don't want to go in there. I feel like absolute shit, not just because I was slammed into a locker twice, but because of what Vicki said in class, about how she and the rest of them were hoping that I was dead.

I try to push my feelings aside and am about to open the door when I hear sneakers squelching down the hallway towards me. I look up and see Claire coming my way. She has her head down and I watch her approach me until she finally lifts it and looks me in the eyes.

That's when I open the classroom door and step inside.

* * *

"I wish my grandson would come visit me."

I sigh and look up from my Algebra homework and at my grandmother. "I'm sure he'll visit soon."

"I miss him a lot," Grandma says, not looking up from the thing she's knitting. "I wish he would come see me. It's so lonely here."

My grandmother is completely senile. She doesn't even know who I am anymore. She still thinks that her grandson is a little kid who writes her stories. Whenever I visit her she asks where he is and if he's going to visit soon. It really kills me that she doesn't know who I am, but I still visit her as much as I can each week. Seeing her is the only connection I have to the past.

"Don't you like it when I come?" I ask her.

She gives me the look she usually gives me when she doesn't recognize me. "I don't know you. I don't understand why you visit me." She looks down at the thing she's knitting. "But you seem like a nice boy. Do you know my grandson?"

I sigh. I'm used to this conversation because we have it pretty much every time I visit her. "I do."

"Tell him that I miss him and want him to visit me."

I nod my head and feel my heart sink. "I will."

"I want you to leave now." She sets her knitting needles in her lap and waves me away with her hand. "Go."

I sigh and gather up my books and put them into my bag. "All right. Bye, Grandma." I leave her room and say bye to Kathy the receptionist before leaving the nursing home. I head to my car and start up the engine, letting it idle for a few minutes.

I wish she would recognize me just once. She's the only string that connects me to what I used to have, back when my mother was alive and life was just a little bit better than it is now. I'd do anything for her to recognize me and say my name.

The sun is starting to set. I head for my father's house, the last place I want to go.

I park my car in the empty driveway and grab my stuff. As soon as I open the door the smell of food hits me in the face and reminds me of how hungry I am.

I slip through the kitchen, where April is cooking, unnoticed and head for my room. I throw my bag down on the floor and sit on the edge of my bed and rake my fingers through my hair.

My shoulder still aches from earlier. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, telling myself that soon I'll be out of that madhouse. I won't be shoved around and stepped all over ever again. Everybody who has wronged me will bow down at my feet because I'm going to be something in life while they won't.

There's a soft knock on my door. "Carson?"

I lift my head. "Yeah?"

"Dinner's ready," April says. "Your father isn't home yet, so it's just you and me."

I take a deep breath and get off of my bed. Dinner alone with my father's fiancé isn't going to go well. It's going to be incredibly awkward and I'm one hundred percent not looking forward to it. But I'm starving, so I open my door and head into the kitchen.

April sets a steaming plate of food at my place. "Thanks," I say.

"You're welcome." She sits down to my left and pulls her chair out so she can fit her bulging stomach between it and the table.

The only dinner conversation is the clanking of our silverware against the ceramic plates. Occasionally I glance up at her to see she's avoiding my eye. I want to say something to break the awkwardness, but I keep my mouth filled with food.

"How was your day?"

I almost choke when she breaks the unnerving silence. I stumble over my words. "Oh, uh, it was okay." I shovel another fork-load of food into my mouth. "How was yours?"

She shrugs. "The pharmacy wasn't that busy. But my day was all right."

I nod my head and take a sip of water.

"Remember that night you came over for dinner?"

I almost spit out my water. She's going to bring that up?

I swallow. "Yeah."

"I still can't believe he did that. Pretended to be someone he isn't." She looks up at me with wide, sorrowful eyes. "I'm sorry I brought this up. I've just been thinking." She sighs. "Maybe I shouldn't tell you."

I stop chewing. Now I'm interested to know what's on her mind. "I promise I won't tell him. I never tell him anything."

She looks down at her food as she speaks. "I'm worried he's going to do the same to me. We have a new son on the way, and I don't want him to abandon him like he did with you." She stops herself. "I'm so sorry."

"It's the truth though."

"I'm worried that will happen. I used to see your mother at the pharmacy pretty much daily, and she told me that there's a chance he'll do the same to me. He's been acting weird ever since you walked out that night." She drops her fork and hangs her head in her hands, her shoulders heaving. _"I don't know what to do."_

I'm not good at comforting people when they're upset. In fact, I'm the last person you want for that job. I pick at my chicken with the tooth of my fork and bite my lip. When I look up at her she's hunched over her food in tears. I don't hesitate and say exactly what I think she should do.

"Then leave him."

She stops crying and looks up at me.

"I don't trust him, but that's my opinion. Do what you want." I take a bite of food.

She stares at me in awe. "You really think I should?"

I shrug. "That's up to you."

She leans back in her chair for a few moments, pondering the thought, and then goes back to her food without another word. I don't say anything either, but throughout the rest of dinner I wonder what her decision is. The blank look on her face doesn't emit any clues.

After we're done eating she collects the plates and glasses and brings them to the sink.

"Do you want me to wash them?" I feel bad for her. Washing dishes is the least I can do.

She nods her head. "Yeah." She cradles her head in her hand. "I'm going to go lie down. I feel terrible." She heads down the hall to the master bedroom leaving me with the dirty dishes. I sigh and start on the first plate.

It takes only a mere minute to wash both plates and glasses and set them in the drying rack. I go back into my room and lie down on my bed and start on the mountain of homework that I have to do for tomorrow.

About an hour later I hear the front door open. I keep my ears peeled to find out if April decides to confront him now, because I want to hear the entire argument.

But that doesn't happen. There's no fight and the rest of the evening is quiet. That is, until I hear the front door slam and a car drive off into the night.


End file.
